


It's Pronounced Coxswain

by accol



Series: Regatta AU [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe, Group Sex, M/M, Multi, OT4, Polyamory, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Established GK OT4. Roommates at Harvard. Rowing. Shmoop. Sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brad

**Author's Note:**

> Based on fictionalized portrayals in the HBO miniseries _Generation Kill_. Extra special thanks go out to beaumontinvestigations for inspiration and graphics.

  


  


  


  


“Dude, just get in the boat,” Walt said, pointing at Ray’s seat.

“Can’t we just skip to the part where we go drinking? Like Pimm’s or Hamm’s or whatever the fuck?”

“Ray, the oars are going to keep the boat balanced. You’re not going to fall in,” Nate said reasonably.

Ray stared at the boat at the end of the dock and then back at the three of them. ”What is that cock thing?” Ray asked.

Brad rolled his eyes as he climbed in. The boat rocked a little bit in the water and Ray looked vaguely green. “The coxswain.”

“Yeah, that. The cocks-win. God, rowing is so gay, by the way. I’ll just be the cocks-win.”

“A four-man boat doesn’t need a coxswain,” Nate said. ”You need to get in and row.”

“Plus, Ray, it’s tradition to throw the cox in the water after a regatta,” Brad said, tying his shoes in and smirking. “If you’re afraid of the Muddy, you probably don’t want to sign up to be coxswain.”

Ray’s lip curled up like a snide Elvis. He still made no move toward the boat. If anything he inched back toward the boathouse’s door.

Walt sighed and gave in. “I will give you a backrub afterward if you just get in the damn boat.”

“Ok, but I want to be the cocks-win when we get home,” Ray said, waggling his eyebrows and smiling broadly.

“Fine,” they all said.

****

“Cocks win, motherfuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrsssssssssssshh!” Ray stumbled up from the basement bar at John Harvard’s, slurring his new vocabulary word in the faces of passersby. “That’s how we roll! Or, row. Hahaha! Oof. Ow. Fuck.”

Brad rolled his eyes and stepped over the heap that was Ray’s body on the sidewalk.

“Brad, just get his arm,” Nate said. He was smiling at the squirming lump at their feet as much as Brad was scowling at it. Nate indulged Ray more than Brad did. Probably had something to do with the fact that Ray would talk to Nate for hours about the minutiae of artisanal cheese made by dirty Vermont hippies or goddamn Grecian urns decorated with the homosexual Olympics.

Ray could talk for hours about the minutiae of nearly anything. It was why the three of them loved him, and why sometimes Brad rolled out of their bed early to go sculling by himself. He’d come back, muscles sore and feeling reenergized from some solitude on the Charles, and Ray would ply him with the morning paper and an omelette. (Fuck artisanal cheese except when it was in one of Ray’s omelettes.) Brad would hand Ray a pen and they’d do the crossword together with help from Nate on anything Latin and from Walt on anything involving a Heisman trophy winner. It was patently disgusting and Brad prefered not to talk about liking it.

Right now, Ray was sloppy drunk. And that meant Ray loved everyone approximately twentyfold more than usual.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Walt mumbled when Ray hung off his neck and kissed him with an unhealthy amount of stale beer-tasting tongue on their porch. The groping was so sudden and unbalanced that Walt almost tripped on top of him. Nate’s ratty old bike clattered over. Brad grabbed Walt’s shoulders and kept him upright. He chuckled at Walt’s predicament and slid his hand into Walt’s front pocket to pull out the house keys. Walt pushed his butt back into Brad’s crotch; it was the only retaliation he could manage with Ray on him like an organ grinder’s monkey.

“You love me,” Ray said, smooshing Walt’s cheeks together.

“He loves you, Walt. You’re a lucky man,” Brad smirked.

Walt smiled and shrugged and dragged Ray up the stairs to their apartment. That was the thing about Walt: he had the highest tolerance for Ray’s antics out of all of them. Brad worried that Walt was some kind of mega-sponge for Ray’s bullshit. Eventually someone would squeeze him and all of the ideas Ray had deposited in him would come streaming out.

“You love me,” Ray mumbled upstairs when Nate pulled Ray’s shirt off over his head and tossed it in the clothes hamper. Ray hugged him. Brad supposed Ray was attempting to kiss Nate’s chest, but he mostly looked like he was wiping his nose on Nate’s shirt.

“You caught me, Ray. I do indeed love you. Let’s go,” Nate said, trying to coax Ray toward the bathroom.

“Where’re we goin’? Oh shit! You’re gonna finally let me meet your parents, ‘n’t you? They’re gon’ love me. I swear they will, Nate. Even in the middle of the night and drunk they’re gonna love me.” Ray hiccuped. He tried to go up on his tiptoes to kiss Nate’s mouth, but he stumbled over his own feet and ended up on his knees. “This is good too,” he mumbled, nuzzling into Nate’s crotch.

“Going to risk it?” Brad smiled around his toothbrush, raising an eyebrow toward the comedy happening near Nate’s dick.

“I might,” Nate said. “I don’t see you on your knees, Colbert.”

Ray was fumbling with the button on Nate’s jeans and failing. A wet splotch of saliva was spreading across the denim.

“You also don’t see me about to puke on your feet.”

“Not gonna puke,” Ray mumbled. “Gonna suck off one-third of my boyfriends. Because I’m the cocks win.” He laughed hysterically, still rubbing his face against Nate’s dick. He was gripping onto the front pockets of Nate’s jeans, and it was tugging them low. Brad could at least admire the view.

“Come on. You can give everyone blowjobs tomorrow,” Walt said, pulling Ray to his feet again. “For now, you need a shower.”

“Brad should come,” Ray smiled.

His vector between the door and the shower gave him the opportunity to lean on Brad’s arm like a 160 lb. leech. It made Brad’s toothbrush flip out of his grasp and land in the wastebasket.

“Oh shit. Sorry. I’m drunk, and you gotta admit I’m really, really cute. Here. Here, I’ll wash it off. Ok. Good ‘s new.” He jammed Brad’s toothbrush under the sink’s running water and then splashed it back into Brad’s hand. He looked up at Brad with a broad grin. “Love you too,” Ray grinned. He attempted to boop Brad’s nose but thankfully whiffed.

Brad turned the water to hot and scrubbed at his toothbrush. Ray clamped himself around Brad’s waist.

“Ray, you need a shower,” Walt said again, tugging at Ray’s arms. “Look, I turned on the water. It’s gonna feel good.”

“Not goin’ without Brad,” Ray said. He kissed the skin at Brad’s hip. “We all know he’s the dirtiest of all of us.” Ray devolved into convulsions of laughter on the bathroom rug.

“Just go in there with him,” Nate said against Brad’s neck.

Brad looked at the ceiling and shook his head. Walt was stripping off Ray’s socks and tossing them out into the other room. Nate was already naked and getting under the water. He looked back at Brad and zipped the curtain closed.

Ray kissed the top of Brad’s foot. “Let me love you, baby.”

Ray was fucking ridiculous. It had to do with the suspect breeding practices in the Ozarks, Brad was sure of it. Brad couldn’t help it, though. He more than liked the guy who’d crashed his recitation, who’d invited himself over and brought along his boyfriend. The two of them fit into Brad’s and Nate’s life like two parts of a puzzle that they hadn’t realized were missing. There was no getting rid of him, ridiculous or not.

Nate’s hand poked out from behind the shower curtain, obviously signalling for Brad to get in. Walt managed to get Ray naked, but he was still sprawled on the floor, humming something that was probably supposed to be a song.

Walt stepped into the shower. “Come on, Brad. Pass him in.”

Ray sighed happily when Brad picked him up around the chest and stuck him between Nate’s and Walt’s wet bodies. Nate raised an eyebrow at Brad meaningfully.

Brad looked at the three of them in the steamy shower. Nate soaping up Ray’s back. Walt bravely taking most of Ray’s attention. There shouldn’t have been room in there for him too. It violated laws of physics.

“Fuck all of you. I can’t believe you made me fall in love with your sorry asses,” Brad said.

Nate smiled wryly. “Ray will probably blow you if you get in here.”

“He’ll goddamn drown.”

“‘Zat some kind of jizz joke?” Ray’s eyes weren’t really open and his head lolled back onto Nate’s shoulder. “I can take what you got, Colbert.”

Brad stripped and pushed into the shower behind Walt. “Fine. I’m in.”

“‘S what he said,” Ray giggled. Walt giggled too. It was the stupidest joke in the history of Ray’s stupid jokes, but Nate was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing too.

“Move over,” Brad grumbled. “I’ll take him.”

“‘S what he said,” Ray giggled again. He was shaking with laughter and slippery when Brad juggled around Walt and put his arms around Ray.

Nate leaned over Ray’s head and kissed Brad on the mouth. “Thanks,” he mouthed.

Walt’s kiss landed on the back of Brad’s shoulder as his hands stroked Brad’s hips. By the time they got Ray cleaned up, he was snoring. Brad carried him over to their bed and they slid under the sheet around Ray.

Brad was frequently pissed that he loved the three of them, but there was no helping it.


	2. Ray

  


  


  


  


Ray woke up at dawn. He was too hot and his mouth tasted like warmed over ass. Walt’s hair kept tickling his face. He blew it away with a snort and wrinkled his nose. Nate had reached over Walt in the middle of the night and now had Ray’s wrist in a death grip while he slept. That motherfucker. What kind of ninja-style possessive shit was that? And then there was Brad. His goddamn, Viking-sized morning wood was jammed into Ray’s lower back like a fucking longship.

And Ray really needed to piss.

He managed to worm his way out of the pile. Both Brad and Nate rolled onto their backs when he got up. Brad’s boner was practically pointing at the ceiling. Nate’s hand was precariously close to fisting around Walt’s dick. What the fuck. Even if they were still together in 50 years, Ray would never get used to the sight of these pretty, blond, WASP-y fuckers in his bed. He stood there watching them sleep until his bladder started sending up flares.

He caught himself humming the fight song as he pissed. Fucking school spirit. Ray Person didn’t have school spirit. He’d taken a leak on old J.H.’s statue just last week. The closest Ray Person got to school spirit was the class president in his bed. He must have learned the song through osmosis. I mean, what fucking school has a song called “Ten Thousand Men of Harvard” in motherfucking Latin? That shit is gay with a capital...

Oh.

Jesus. Nate’s sperm actually contains mitochondrial Harvard DNA. _Ray literally learned the song by sucking off the class president._ There was a Ph.D. thesis in that revelation somewhere. (Ray made a mental note to jot it down in his notebook. Something in that book was going to win him a Nobel some day. He’d almost convinced the other three of that fact.)

Ray took a couple of aspirin and chugged a huge glass of water. It was possible that he was still drunk. Yep, kinda felt like that. More sleep so he didn’t end up feeling like he was getting hit in the head with one of Brad’s oars.

When he went back to the bedroom, Walt had curled around Brad. His face was in Brad’s armpit. Brad had covered his head with a pillow to keep out the morning light. Nate had thrown some kind of circadian rhythm bullshit at them when he put up these weak ass curtains. Rising with the sun is good for your health. He had literature references. (Ray read them. Nate might have a point.)

Ray realized Nate was awake. And he was staring.

“What?” Ray whispered. Sometimes when Nate did this quiet examining thing he did, Ray felt like he should cover his dick up with his hands. Other times he felt like he might get away with wagging it around. Either way it was like being under a microscope. A microscope that Ray really enjoyed fucking. (Hm. Nope, that train of thought went off the rails. Would there ever be a good reason to fuck lab equipment? Nope. Probably not. No.)

“How do you feel?”

“Like I rowed down the river and back with a sack of concrete on my shoulders.”

“That just means you need to do it again,” Nate said quietly. The serious look on his face lasted long enough for Ray to just about squirm. Then it melted into a lazy smile. “Come back to bed. I won’t make you get in the boat again for at least another hour and a half.”

Fucking Nate. He was basically Ray’s grandmother, a high school track coach, and a porn star wrapped into a single guy that was probably going to be President of the motherfucking US of A someday. He was the biggest puzzle Ray had ever been around. Schrodinger’s box with the cat, but in the form of a dude. You never really knew what was going on inside that head of his except that whatever it was was tactical as shit.

Nate lifted the edge of the sheet so Ray could climb under. Walt was throwing off heat like an oven, so Ray pushed Nate toward the center of the bed and laid at the edge. That way his butt could hang out from under the sheet. Some kind of radiative cooling antenna strategy. It worked, whatever the underlying science. He should patent this stuff.

“Do you remember anything from last night? You were shitfaced and I’d have guessed that you’d be hungover right now.”

Ray planted his forehead against Nate’s chest and pulled Nate’s arm around him. He’d been trying to make Nate into a cuddler since the first morning they’d woken up together. “You know I don’t get hangovers. It’s part of my exceptional breeding.”

Nate huffed a quiet laugh because, of course, Ray’s hangovers were the stuff of legend.

“You don’t believe me? Generations of alcoholic ancestors have made me what I am today.”

Nate’s arm tightened around him. They laid like that, dozing, for a while. The sound of Nate’s breathing was nice. The rhythm of it made Ray’s brain slow down. (He tried to remember to write that in the notebook too. Hypnotism. He should read up on it to explain Fick’s black magic. It was the only explanation for Ray agreeing to become a rower. But then he forgot and fell asleep.)

****

“Homes, wake up.”

Nate didn’t open his eyes, but he spoke clearly with no sleep in his voice. “I’m already up. Just waiting for you.”

Ray squirmed a little next to him. Now that he was fully rested and the aspirin had done its job, he was horny as fuck. That was possibly the one problem with living with Walt, Brad, and Nate. Ray’s insatiability could roam free. There was a very good chance that at any time of the day or night, at least one of them would be down to get freaky.

“You owe us all some awesome head,” Walt mumbled from behind Nate.

Ray sat up. “How do you figure that?” Ray’s brain attempted to shift into overdrive to remember the details of what happened last night. The gears ground.

Brad snorted and smirked, eyes closed. Otherwise he hadn’t moved. And his dick was still looking for some attention. “Because you’d be waking up on the sidewalk off of Mt. Auburn if we hadn’t hauled your ass home last night.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Ray said. He really had no fucking idea what he was talking about, but he was gonna wing it.

Walt laughed and rolled over to face Ray. “Why do you think your knee’s all scraped up?”

Ray looked down. Sure enough. “Huh. Sure this isn’t rug burn? I remember Nate’s dick in my face.”

Nate’s body shook with a silent chuckle.

“Either get to work or get out to the boat,” Brad said. He waved his hand in the vicinity of his cock like Ray was just going to service him. Well, that was rude.

“Who’s gonna make me?”

Brad’s eyes cracked open and he just looked at Ray with his eyebrows rising. Nate was outright laughing now. Walt reached over Nate and dragged Ray into the center of the bed.

“I guess that’d be my job,” Walt said.

“You, Hasser. You can’t make me--”

Walt’s soft mouth was on Ray’s then. Really, Walt could get Ray to just about anything. Those were the true facts. Or more that Ray would do anything just to feel Walt’s smile on him. From way back in junior high on the first day they met and Ray ended up spraining his wrist trying to ollie his skateboard to impress Walt. It never got old, though, the way Ray would get all melty when Walt focused on him. He’d kiss Ray slowly, holding back on purpose until Ray wanted to attack him... like he was doing right now. A teasing lick of his tongue across Ray’s lower lip, his fingers scratching down through Ray’s hair.

Ray laughed when Walt’s hand wrapped around the back of his neck and he pushed Ray’s face into Brad’s crotch. That fucker’s grip had gotten strong since he started training with Nate and Brad. Ray needed to request more handjobs. Or maybe he really did need to become a rower so he could jerk himself off. Ray had a momentary thought that this was some kind of Machiavellian sex plan orchestrated by Nate. Brad shifted his hips and the head of his cock smeared across Ray’s cheek. This was some kind of goddamn rowboat hazing. Fine. Good. Ray could take it.

“Alright. I concede that _maybe_ I remember the _cocks win_ portion of last night’s festivities,” Ray said.

****

Nate had them on the water 45 minutes later.

“You can do this Ray,” Nate said. “Focus on the rhythm of it.”

After Ray stopped trying to turn that into an innuendo, Nate’s advice pretty much worked. They didn’t keel over and dump into the river. Brad looked satisfied when he clicked the stopwatch. Walt pinched Ray’s ass. And Nate gave Ray an approving look when they got back to the dock.

Ray didn’t really care much if people liked what he did or if they fucking hated it because he was usually awesome at everything. (Those were the facts, not ego. Or not mostly ego.) But there was something supremely satisfying about impressing Nate Fick.

****

Brad dragged them to Cardullo’s afterward. They sat out on the sidewalk tables and ate their sandwiches.

“I got so many crabs today,” Ray said around his mouthful of pastrami. His jaw was aching pleasantly from this morning’s activities.

A gray haired old lady with a scarf over her hair looked at Ray with utter disgust and shuffled into the deli.

Nate laughed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “It’s ‘caught a crab,’ not ‘got crabs,’ Ray. The latter is a venereal disease, which you had better not have.”

“First coxswain, now crabs. I’m taking Wikipedia away from you,” Brad said.

Ray looked at all of them with mock surprise. “How could these people think that I, Ray Person, upstanding Harvard citizen, have crabs? I’m a gentleman and a cocks win!” Ray yelled the last part. Brad put his forehead in his hand. Walt blushed. But Ray couldn’t get a rise out of Nate.

“You’re dating three guys simultaneously. Would you call that being a gentleman?” Nate leveled another of those looks at Ray that made him want to hide or show off. For now, he chose showing off.

“I always let you guys come first. If that’s not being a gentleman--”

Nate quietly smiled over his reuben. Puzzles like Nate Fick were Ray’s favorite.


	3. Walt

  


  
Ray was groaning and flopping around on the couch. He put his feet in Walt’s lap. Then he flipped around and put his head there instead. Walt put down the copy of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ that Brad had lent him and reluctantly looked down at Ray. He knew exactly what Ray was trolling for, but he wasn’t going to give it to him before Ray used his grown up words and asked for it.

“Walt,” Ray whined. His lower lip was jutting out.

“Ray,” Walt whined back.

“Walter, Nate made me go rowing and now everything hurts.” He thought his puppy dog brown eyes were more persuasive than they actually were. Ray was such an attention whore, but Walt was mostly immune to it at this point.

“I didn’t make you do anything,” Nate said from the kitchen.

Walt smiled at Ray and batted his eyelashes innocently, but otherwise he didn’t respond. He had promised Ray a backrub yesterday in order to get Ray into the boat, but Ray hadn’t reminded Walt of it... yet. Considering the excellent head Ray had given them this morning, Walt should probably just do it without making Ray beg.

Ray seemed content to snuggle down into Walt’s lap after making a huge commotion pulling a blanket over himself. One foot was hanging out off the end of the couch, complete with a sagging wool sock that Brad’s sister had knitted. Ray had appropriated them, which was fine with Brad because they were argyle. Enough said. It wasn’t like any of them really had their own clothes anymore. Hell, Walt and Ray had basically shared a closet for the last decade. If it fit, it was fair game.

“You’re the best cuddler,” Ray mumbled. He yawned and his body relaxed, becoming heavier against Walt’s thighs as he drifted toward sleep.

The weather had turned from summer into autumn in the space of about 25 minutes after lunch. That meant Ray’s body heat was pretty awesome as the wind whipped the trees around outside their drafty windows. Nate leaned out from the kitchen doorway. He saw Ray sleeping and gestured at Walt with the kettle. Five minutes later, Walt had a cup of tea to go with his lap warmer boyfriend. Nate pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder, leaned down to kiss the top of Walt’s head, and then he was out the door to the library, travel mug of tea in hand. Walt smiled at the door for a few beats. He stroked his fingers through Ray’s hair.

When Ray had come back to their dingy apartment in Central -- exactly a year ago today, now that Walt thought about it -- and sat Walt down with a weird look, Walt hadn’t comprehended how much their lives were going to change.

“Ok,” Ray had said seriously, and then he just stared at Walt with all of these emotions running over his face.

“You’re freaking me out, dude. What? What’s going on?”

“I met a guy.”

Walt’s throat felt like it might close up. “You what?”

“Shit, no. Well, yes. I mean, I met a guy and he’s... um... perfect for you?”

Walt stared. “What the fuck does that mean? What about us?”

“Yeah, so, about that.” Ray looked away for a second, and then back at Walt. He looked hugely nervous.

“Ray, what the FUCK are you talking about? Are you... trying to get out of this? I don’t want to break up--”

“No. Wait, what? I’m not breaking up with you.”

Walt gave an exasperated sigh. “Do you ever listen to the words that come out of your mouth? How else am I supposed to take what you’re saying?”

Ray leaned in and kissed him just like he always did. “Just... will you come with me and meet him? Or, them, I guess? He’s got a boyfriend.”

“Not until you tell me what this is about.”

Even now, a year later, Walt could still remember the ache in his gut when he thought Ray was going to leave him. He also could vividly remember the butterflies in his stomach the first time he laid eyes on Nate and Brad; Brad being the guy that Ray thought was perfect for Walt. It turned out that Ray was exactly right. No bullshit. Just absolutely correct.

They’d spent that first night hanging out together with Ray looking from Nate to Brad to Walt and then back again like he’d just discovered the meaning of life. Or that Anna’s Taqueria up in Porter was giving away a lifetime supply of burritos. Walt had beaten Brad at Mario Kart -- twice -- and Brad had just looked at him with this warm, curious expression on his face before tucking Walt under his arm. Walt hadn’t been touched like this by another man since... well, never. It had always only ever been Ray. But Ray looked so fucking excited when he looked at the two of them, and Brad’s huge, solid body felt kind of perfect pressed up against Walt. Brad had looked at Nate, drawing his eyes away from where they’d also settled on Walt under Brad’s arm. They had this wordless conversation that Walt knew was about Ray and him. Something about it made Walt sink deeper into Brad’s touch with a dazed smile on his face. He turned a little and pressed his cheek to Brad’s chest.

Even after only a couple of hours, he knew everything was going to be different now.

The night after that, they went over to Brad’s and Nate’s again. This time a bottle of Jager had led to Ray fucking him on the couch head-to-head with Nate and Brad. Walt couldn’t remember being nervous about it. He did remember coming hard enough to see stars, and he remembered the look of awe on Brad’s face.

In the morning when they left for class, Brad had looked at Nate, then at Ray, and then he’d kissed Walt on the lips. Walt remembered that Ray holding his hand on the walk across the quad was the only thing that kept his feet on the ground.

They’d barely stayed at their apartment after that first week. They started doing everything together. Eating meals together. Pick-up football scrimmages with some of the guys that Brad and Nate rowed with. Studying in Brad’s lab late at night.

One morning, maybe a month after that first kiss, Walt was laying awake in bed when Brad got up to go sculling. Ray was wrapped around him like usual, but Walt managed to turn enough to watch Brad pull on his clothes. Brad gave him one of those quiet smiles when he noticed Walt staring.

“Want to come along?”

And that had been all it took for Walt to become a rower. Brad telling Ray and Nate that he’d taken to it like a natural had made Walt’s cheeks sore from smiling. The best feeling was when they won that first trophy and Brad had bear-hugged him in front of everyone, not just Ray and Nate, but everyone at the race.

A couple of weeks after that, Ray tailed after them down to the boathouse. He giggled the whole way down, and Walt knew him well enough to know he was up to something.

“Ray!” Brad growled Ray’s name loud enough for a jolt of fear to run through Walt.

Then Walt saw what had happened. “Kiss my stern” was painted at one end of their boat. He didn’t know whether to be terrified that they’d get DQ’d from their race tomorrow or to laugh.

“Get your ass up to Dickson’s and get some paint remover. Two hours, Ray. Two fucking hours and this better be gone,” Brad had said. Ray was doubled over, and Walt sort of sidled between the two of them just to make sure Brad wouldn’t kick him off the dock into the river. Brad had pushed Walt hard on the water that day, but they’d won their race the day after that and Ray had grudgingly fixed his little prank. (In the end, Walt had decided it was pretty damn funny, but he kept it to himself around Brad. Nate laughed when Walt whispered it to him over dinner, though.)

A few weeks after that, Ray and Walt found subletters. They officially moved in with Brad and Nate. It was exactly 7 weeks and 3 days since that kiss.

(On the sixth day after Ray had dragged him over to meet the mystery men, Walt had finally asked Ray what he wanted from all of this. That first night, Ray had just made it sound like it could be a good time. You know, a little fucking around with some hot guys. This was obviously not just a little fooling around though.

Ray had shrugged. “I want to watch you fall in love,” he said quietly. The look of ‘please be okay with all of this’ written across Ray’s face had made tears well in Walt’s eyes. They’d stayed at their own apartment that night, talking and fucking. And, Walt realized, falling in love with each other all over again.)

After all the boxes got carried upstairs, the four of them cracked open some beers and had _The Talk_. They’d all known it was coming, but it was Walt that finally broke the ice.

“Hey, so, um... just, everyone please look at me right now. I want to know you are understanding what I’m gonna say here.” Walt took a deep breath. “I’m-- When Ray came back and said that he’d met you-- And then we just all--” Walt looked around the circle. He had no fucking clue what words he should use to explain how he was feeling. “Shit. Here.”

He put down his beer. He kissed each of them the way that they liked it. Ray soft, just brushing their lips together until he could feel the smile grow across Ray’s lips. Nate with eyes open and a little bit of tongue; fuck, Walt loved kissing Nate -- a huge shiver ran through him and Brad chuckled from next to them. And then Walt turned to Brad and kissed him hard, like he meant it, like he couldn’t help himself... and maybe he couldn’t help himself around these guys.

“I don’t know how to say it any other way,” Walt said quietly.

Brad yanked Walt down into his lap on the floor and had kissed him like he meant it too. That night was the first night Walt got fucked by everyone. He’d fallen asleep satisfied in the middle of the bed, fingers laced with Nate’s, forehead on Brad’s shoulder, and back against Ray’s chest. He liked it best when they all were touching him.

Now, with Ray drooling on his lap while he slept, Walt realized that Brad was leaning in the bedroom doorway. Walt felt a swelling surge of happiness, and he couldn’t help the laugh that sprung out of him.

“Homes, your boner is poking me in the ear,” Ray mumbled.

Brad’s wiggled his eyebrows. Ray was right. Brad was definitely the dirtiest of all of them. Walt threw a pillow at him.

He decided then that since it was basically their anniversary, they should do something nice tonight. Walt started planning dinner and wondered how much he’d get teased if he put out candles. It was probably worth it, since he really had fallen in love. Three times.


	4. Nate

 

  
It took Nate longer than the rest of them.

****

_BC: Dinner in 45. I can’t guarantee that the apartment will still be standing if you don’t get here pronto._

And then a moment later, a picture came through. Walt and Ray were squared off in the kitchen, dueling with wooden spoons. A few minutes later, another picture came through, this time from Walt. Brad had Ray pinned on the floor and was kissing him.

_WH: They are trying to have dessert first. Finish up at the library soon because I want some too. ;P_

Nate smiled fondly and ran his thumb across the letters displayed on his phone. He started packing his stuff into his bag. Then his phone vibrated several times in rapid succession.

_RP: Hiding in the bathroom so I dont get assfucked with a turkey baster  
RP: Brads in one of THOSE moods homes. youve been warned  
RP: Dont tell Walt I spilled but hes making a fancy ass dinner here. romantic shit  
RP: It was a year ago tonight that we came over that first time  
RP: So hurry the fuck up  
RP: We need you here Nate xx_

Nate stifled his laugh and took the stairs down two at a time.

_RP: Plus if your dick is in my ass Brad will have to give up on the turkey baster idea  
RP: Bro  
RP: srsly_

****

Everything froze when Nate saw Walt looking up at Brad like he hung the stars. Nate’s lips fell open slightly, and he almost didn’t notice Ray bumping against his shoulder. This beautiful, kind man and his ball-of-fire boyfriend had dropped into their world two nights ago, and Nate had been caught completely off-balance. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Brad on the receiving end of a look like that before. Hell, in the privacy of their own bedroom, Nate had probably looked at him like that a time or two. But this was different. This was Brad asking permission to reciprocate and it was fucking terrifying.

Nate hadn’t even blinked when Brad told him that a guy he just met was bringing over his boyfriend. Or when he suggested things were about to get interesting. Brad was a kinky fucker, and that idea was something they’d whispered to each other in the heat of the moment more than once. But now it was actually happening.

Every possible scenario slammed through Nate’s brain in an instant.

...shared men...bored...drifting apart...leaving...Walt and Ray...how does the math work?..the kernel of something...confusing...other people...last night...fuck...Brad...

Nate did not love the idea of Brad kissing someone else -- the risk of something life-changing was real -- but he also was reluctant to tell Brad no. There were going to be consequences to this either way.

Ray bumped against Nate’s shoulder again. Nate looked over at him. His face had this expression of glee that utterly baffled Nate. How could he be so willing to have his boyfriend with another person?

Despite everything, Nate nodded silently, giving Brad the go ahead to kiss Walt. When Brad leaned down and put a fairly chaste kiss on his lips, Nate’s insides lurched painfully.

“You ok,” Brad had asked later. He reached across their kitchen table and put his hand over Nate’s.

Nate looked up from the pasta he was poking around with his fork. It look him a long time to answer. “I don’t know yet.”

Brad nodded and didn’t push. He did, however, put on _The Goonies_ and rub the tension out of Nate’s shoulders before they headed down to the boathouse. Nate made a point to pair with Brad this time, even though they didn’t always train in the same boat. Today Nate needed to see Brad’s back and to feel like they had their rhythm. Nate rowed hard and Brad matched him stroke for stroke as Nate called out the pace. Brad’s kiss afterward was real, and Nate started to feel his feet underneath him again.

He had trouble concentrating during his evening Lexicography lecture. He was too busy replaying the last 24 hours in his mind. Holy crap had that sex been hot. The sight of Walt and Ray fucking mere inches from him had been mind-melting. The way Ray’s sharp angles and black-lined tattoos fit against Walt’s smooth muscles and round face was so different than Brad and Nate. The way they moved together, with Walt arching his back into Ray’s thrusts, knuckles white as he gripped the couch’s upholstery and Ray stroked his hair. Brad had pounded into Nate so hard, that he almost collapsed on top of Walt. He could remember distinctly the feeling of a drop of sweat rolling down his nose before it fell onto Walt’s shoulder. That’s how close they’d been last night. Nearly on top of each other, but carefully avoiding that hard line in the sand.

Nate squirmed in the lecture hall’s hard chair. What if Walt had leaned across that line for a kiss from Nate this morning? What would he have done then? Would he have wanted it? Nate chewed on the end of his pen. Maybe. Yeah, maybe he would have wanted to kiss Walt too. If he had been in Brad’s shoes, he would have been the one asking permission. So how was he supposed to justify wanting that and being jealous as hell when Brad did the same thing? He couldn’t.

After class let out, he stuck in his earbuds and crossed the quad. He watched his feet as he walked, trying to figure out what it meant for Brad and him if they both wanted someone else. Or two someone elses. Was this a 2+2 kind of thing? Publicly it’d always have to be 2+2. Nate’s stomach lurched again with the thought of it being more like 3+1 with him on the outside. He pulled up the browser on his phone and blushed hot and fast as he typed in _polyamory_.

A muffled “Nate” reached his ears. He looked up and it was Walt stopping him with a squeeze of his arm and a broad smile. Nate quickly slid his phone into his pocket.

Wow.

Ok, Walt was cute in the way that made Nate want to wrap him up and put him in his pocket for safekeeping. Into his pocket next to the phone with the _polyamory_ Wikipedia entry pulled up. Good plan, Fick.

Walt reached up and hooked a finger through Nate’s headphone cords, tugging the earbuds free when Nate managed a “hi.”

“I wanted to say thanks. Um, I mean, for... you know.” Nate thought he could see that Walt was blushing in the dark and somehow that made him feel better. Walt squeezed Nate’s fingers and smiled. Nate squeezed back. Walt kissed his cheek a little too close to Nate’s lips for it to be platonic.

Nate found Brad doing sit-ups on the living room floor 10 minutes later. “We should have Ray and Walt back over,” Nate said as soon as he was in the front door.

Brad smirked. “Is that right. Who’s the kinky bastard now?”

****

“Wait!” Walt hurriedly refilled Nate’s wine glass. “There. Now go.”

“A toast,” Nate said, smiling around the candlelit table. “To finally figuring out that the math works.”

“Hear, hear.”

Walt picked up Nate’s free hand and kissed his fingertips.

****

Nate fell in love with Brad around about their fourth date. It was obvious. Any time they were alone, they were touching. (“Fucking magnets,” Brad had teasingly mumbled the first time Nate slid on top of him, pressing their bodies together from chest to toes.) The absolute compulsion of it was something new for both of them, and they fell so hard it ached to Nate’s marrow. Their teammates on the rowing team rarely referred to them except as a unit; BradandNate, NateandBrad. Really, this all was Poke’s doing. Poke and his _Head of the Charles_ victory kegger at which Brad got shitfaced after a single game of beer pong and hovered over Nate menacingly for the rest of the night, warning off anyone who tried to have a conversation with him. Nate hadn’t wanted to like that possessiveness, but he did. Probably because he knew he was that way too. That was a little over three years ago and they’d spent most of it mentally and physically entertwined with one another.

To Nate’s great surprise, Ray came next. First impressions aren’t everything, apparently, because Ray Person isn’t Nate’s usual type. Yes, he’s genius level smart, but the rest of the package doesn’t jibe with Nate’s typical taste. Or it didn’t before Ray began showing up at the most random times to insinuate himself into Nate’s life, one surprisingly entertaining encounter at a time. When Nate was running errands at the bookstore, there Ray would be, casually flipping through a book on astrophysics and leering at him. (Nate found a copy of Playgirl in his bag when he got back to his apartment. Ray had put post-it notes on the “good parts.”) When he went to the grocery store, there Ray would be with Walt in tow, making some show of fondling melons. He whispered something that Nate couldn’t quite hear, but sounded a lot like “toss your salad.” When Nate went to the gym, Ray would run on the adjacent treadmill and make a huge ordeal out of keeping up with Nate’s long strides. When he picked up his phone one morning after Walt and Ray had stayed over, there was a new playlist loaded in it. It should have been annoying since they already saw Walt and Ray most nights, but instead Nate fell for the constant attention that Ray showered him, on all of them. It certainly didn’t hurt that Brad put Ray’s hand in Nate’s one afternoon a few weeks into this thing and silently suggested that they make use of the couch. The crazy thing -- other than the fact that Brad’s hyper-jealousy had all but disappeared when it came to Walt and Ray -- was that it felt completely normal to have Brad and Walt watching them. Nate knew what he was feeling even then, but it took a while longer to say it.

Walt came last. Maybe it was because he’d been the first one to cross the line into this foursome by kissing Brad. Nate’s Brad. NateandBrad. Nate had felt the residual twangs of jealousy for a long time after that. Little flashes of possessiveness would force him to put a hand on Brad’s shoulder. He’d see the tiny, hurt look that would ghost over Walt’s face, and he would regret it immediately.

Maybe that’s why Walt came last. Because Nate wasn’t sure that he knew how to take care of someone who felt so delicate. Society wasn’t going to accept a relationship like theirs. Nate spent a fair amount of time keeping Ray’s hands off Brad when they were out in public for this exact reason. Walt was better at sitting on his hands, but Nate could see how much he craved for all of them to be touching him. Nate wasn’t sure if he could hold the four of them together when so many external forces were going to try to rip them apart. Then where would they be? Where would Walt be? It’d kill Nate to see him hurt. The selfishness in all of this was not lost on Nate.

“Hey,” Walt said, joining Nate on the couch on an afternoon about a week after Ray and Walt moved in. Ray and Brad and gone on a beer and pizza run.

“Hey.”

“Can, um, we talk?”

Nate felt like he was about to get called out for being a dick. He probably deserved it. It had to be obvious that he was holding back when none of the rest of them were. Brad was even in this relationship full bore and, if anything, Nate and Brad were closer than they’d ever been.

“Sure.”

“Ok.” Walt looked away from Nate and took a deep breath. He looked back and his eyes just about knocked Nate over with their calm intensity. “Listen, I just want to say that I want you to feel like you’re getting what you need out of this. You know, like we’re... like I’m taking care of you.”

Holy shit. Nate’s perspective suddenly wrenched to the left. “Walt--”

Walt put his hand over the center of Nate’s chest. “Please, wait. I want to say this ‘cause I didn’t last week and I should have. I love you, Nate. And I get that you don’t feel the same way, but I hope you will some day.”

Nate put down his textbook. His hands were shaking. He _really_ had been a dick.

“Come here,” Nate said. His voice cracked. Walt climbed onto Nate’s lap and pulled him into a hug. “I don’t know why I thought you were the fragile one.”

“You what? Fuck you,” Walt laughed. Nate could hear the emotion cracking his voice too.

“You aren’t, Walt. You aren’t. Maybe I am.”

“Shut up. You are not fragile. You’re the opposite of that.”

“Yeah,” Nate said noncommittally. He buried his face in Walt’s neck and breathed him in.

Walt squeezed Nate’s shoulders. He wasn’t gentle as he kneaded the tension away in a way that was so like Brad. His hands had gotten stronger since Brad started taking him out sculling, and Nate felt a weird burst of pride mixed with a flutter of lust. Walt’s crotch kept rubbing against Nate’s. He wondered if Walt was doing it on purpose.

Nate kissed the side of Walt’s neck. “I’m sorry I was jealous,” Nate whispered. All of this had happened so fucking fast. “Brad was my...”

“Shush, you don’t have to apologize. Brad _is_ yours, not _was_ yours.”

Nate gave a frustrated sigh. This was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? There couldn’t be a hierarchy. There had to be equality in this thing. Right? “Walt, come on. How is this supposed to work? You make it seem so easy. I don't know how to do that.”

Walt pulled back and looked at Nate, eyes still calm. “You and Brad were together first, just like me and Ray. You guys have shared history that we weren’t there for, and that’s special shit.”

Nate smiled. He leaned forward and rested their foreheads together. Eloquence wasn’t Walt’s strong suit, but he always got his point across.

“But now Ray’s yours and I’m yours too,” Walt whispered. His voice was rough. "We want to be."

Nate knew what he _should_ say. He _could_ say it and he’d mean every one of those few words. He nodded instead.

“And fuck you, I’m definitely not fragile. You seriously think I’m fragile after last week? I took you guys like a pro.”

Nate laughed. “Like a pro? Really?”

Walt shrugged. “You’ve got this Harvard thing in the bag. I gotta cover my bases just in case it doesn’t work out.”

“Hmm,” Nate hummed. His heart pounded at about what he was about to do. He stroked his thumb across Walt’s lips. “Care to get some practice in for your new career?”

Walt’s eyes flashed. They hadn’t ever done this without Brad and Ray here. Over the last couple of weeks, the only hook-ups that happened outside the four of them were the original pairings. Even those felt a little off-limits as they fumbled their way into this polyamory thing that none of them were good at discussing out loud. But maybe this was the step they had to take. It certainly was the one that Nate wanted to take. It couldn’t always be BradandNate if this was going to work.

_This was what Brad had meant when he put Ray’s hand in Nate’s._

Nate didn’t know whether to be annoyed or grateful upon that revelation; Brad Colbert was always a step ahead of everyone. Nate smiled.

“Do you think we should?” Walt rubbed against Nate. His dick was already hard.

Nate stroked his fingers through Walt’s hair. “I think...” Nate maneuvered Walt face down on the couch and knelt over him. He pressed his erection against Walt’s ass. "I want to fuck you.” He leaned over Walt’s back. “I want to do this relationship all the way, Walt. I’m not going to half-ass it."

Walt looked back over his shoulder. "That's what I want too." He pushed his ass up into Nate's groin.

“Ok,” Nate grinned.

“Ok.”

Walt squirmed a little, turning on his side and trying to get the rest of the way over. “Will you kiss me first?”

Nate settled down on top of Walt, feeling the rumble of Walt’s groan passing into him. He laid a soft kiss onto Walt’s lips and watched the pleased look wash over his features. Walt nodded encouragingly. Nate licked across the seam of Walt’s mouth with a gentle touch. Walt’s lips slipped open and the tips of their tongues met. Walt exhaled and let his eyes fall shut. He rocked his hips against Nate’s as they kissed. Nate pushed his arms underneath Walt’s body, locking him into a bearhug and letting his weight fall completely onto him. Walt moaned into Nate’s mouth.

“Walt?”

Walt’s eyes came open. “What? Is everything ok?”

“Take your fucking clothes off,” Nate said.

Walt pushed Nate off of him like he was on fire. His t-shirt ended up in the kitchen doorway in his excitement. Nate abandoned his clothes next to the couch. When he looked up again, Walt was already kneeling on the couch with his knees wide and his elbows on the back.

“Kiss me again?” Walt wiggled his ass and Nate got the message loud and clear.

“Fuck,” Nate whispered. He dropped to his knees behind Walt. He immediately pushed the point of his tongue against Walt’s hole, relishing Walt’s collapse onto the back of the couch.

“Shit, Nate. Your mouth. How the hell do you even--” Walt’s words were lost to a gasp of pleasure. Walt reached down and pulled at his cock. Nate licked deeper, holding Walt’s cheeks apart as he tongue-fucked him.

When Brad and Ray got back with the food, they were going to walk in on this. Nate _wanted_ them to walk in on this. He wanted to know that he might walk in on them sometime. He wanted them to walk in and join up. He wanted to have his tongue in Walt’s ass while Ray was licking his. “Fuck,” Nate whispered again. His breath puffed against Walt’s reddening hole.

“I want them to come home,” Walt whined, practically reading Nate’s mind.

Nate hummed his agreement. “Fingers,” he warned. He slid his first finger into Walt and was rewarded with a hiss.

“Shit, Nate. Go slow or I’m gonna come too fast.” Walt kept stroking himself.

Nate spit and slid another finger into Walt’s ass. Nate loved getting his ass fucked, but he should take some lessons from Walt. Walt was so responsive, like Nate could do no wrong if he just kept touching him. Like there was nothing he could ever do that’d hurt Walt. Walt pushed back onto Nate’s fingers and shuddered.

Nate grabbed at the side table. They’d started leaving lube and condoms in there a few weeks ago. He grabbed a handful in his urgency. Walt was looking back at him and they locked eyes.

“I want you to get tested,” Nate said. “We all should go. I -- fuck -- I really want to fuck you bareback.” And it all clicked into place for Nate. He really fucking wanted this, all of it. He wanted all of them in every way possible. Not just the sex. He wanted them to own each other; the sex was just part of that bigger picture.

“Tomorrow, Nate, I promise. Just, for now, please fuck me.”

Nate rolled a condom on and replaced his fingers with his cock, slowly sliding into Walt’s heat. He collapsed against Walt’s back and kissed his warm skin. Walt arched and turned his head over his shoulder. Nate tongued into his mouth. He kept a slow pace that took them to a plateau, to a knife’s edge, while they waited to be walked in on.

“...So I told him, no fucking way that--” Ray’s monologue cut off as soon as the front door opened and he and Brad saw their boyfriends on the couch.

“Well, what do you know,” Brad said, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint, smug smile.

“Fucking FINALLY,” Ray said. “Jesus fucking Christ in a goddamn sexy maid costume, I was beginning to worry, Nate.”

They ditched the food and their clothes.

“Nate,” Walt choked out. “I wanna come. Can I come?”

“Wait!” Ray shimmied under both of them, pushing and readjusting their bodies until he got Walt’s dick in his mouth.

“Fuck!” Walt’s ass clenched around Nate’s dick. His whole body tensed for a minute, eyes squeezed shut, as he tried to keep his composure for a breath. Then Walt swung his hips. He fucked himself onto Nate’s cock and then into Ray’s mouth, and back again.

“I like the creativity I’m seeing,” Brad said.

“Shut the fuck up, Brad,” Walt gasped. “Get in here.”

Brad smirked as he walked up to the back of the couch and took Walt’s chin in his hand. He leaned down to kiss him and then stood to kiss Nate. Brad crowded in, forcing Walt upright, sandwiched between Brad and Nate. Nate put his arm around Walt’s chest to keep him balanced as he slid into him over and over again.

With all of them here, Nate breathed to Walt, “I love all of you. I’m sure of it.”

Walt sobbed into Brad’s chest and came.

****

Six months later, the first regatta of the spring season came when there was still sharp ice at the edge of the river. Ray made a nervous joke about “a coxless four” just before the starting gun sounded. Walt, Brad, Nate, and Ray. They’d trained for this. In so many ways, they’d trained for this. _WaltandBradandNateandRay_.  They pulled in rhythm until their lungs burned and their hands ached from the hardened calluses there. When they crossed the finish line, Ray’s forehead touched Nate’s back. Nate put a hand on Brad’s waist, and Walt flopped back into Brad’s lap sucking in air.

They couldn’t be out, but joining hands with his boyfriends and raising them high on the podium was enough to put a lump in Nate’s throat.    



End file.
